Tag Archives: nighttime walks


Of all the things I’m privileged with, one of my favourites is being able to go on nighttime Shinrin-yoku  walks in the hilltop park behind my house.  Armed only with a flashlight I walk the darkened hallways of swaying trees, listening to arpeggios played upon their upper branches.

I walk by myself but I’m not alone, I’m here with each fir and oak, with the forest understory with its many tiny insect and bird kingdoms, and I’m with the morphing clouds that race across the sky, ambered by the city that spills its way towards this hilltop redoubt. I listen to the song the wind is singing and I look at the scimitar pureness of a new moon.   I give thanks for a moment of standing on a rocky outcrop at the edge of a city watching its lights and the sky overhead, feeling the wind surge around me and feeling at peace.




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Filed under Passing Thoughts

shooting star

under starshine you glow

mithril strong

a crescent moon

slices my heart


while gentle waves tug

sending aural strokes


along the dark

wet margin

where we walk

inhaling salt tang

absorbing each moment

with every sense



behind you a meteor streaks

falling into

the realm of promises and dreams

dusting magic

into my eyes



David Trudel   ©  2014



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Filed under Poetry


IMG_1290sometimes at the top of the hill

there are stories that float up

from each of those lights

signaling their revolutions

pulling me into memories of the over there

or imaginary dramas

like elderly couples planning each other’s assisted suicide

or teenagers learning the ways of rooftop exits

into rebellion in empty spaces between lights

down there life is being made

and death continues to shouldertap


there are sounds

that are all new but not new

each siren a grim familiar chorus

each distant shout echoing

a thousand others heard before

each thousand thousand sounds a looping track

played back randomly

played back frequently enough for familiarity

so that each sound resonates comfortably

like you’ve heard them before

just not quite like this


the light is never the same

tonight low clouds dance the moon

revealing glimpses of white mystery

behind gray scarves fanned like marilyn

luminescent overcast makes cameos of twisted limbs

and mosscaught raindrops glow like mithril in moonlight

as shadows shift into almost

wearing sheer nothings that you can never quite see through



David Trudel   ©  2013

Photo by the author




Filed under Poetry


Where are you?

Flashed the message on my screen

On my return

Moonbeaming poems and shooting stars

I keyed


No luck no magic tonight

Hit reply

Just silvered clouds with gaptoothed grins

A hint of winter in the air

Faint whiff of woodsmoke on the wind

Pungent scent of rotting leaves

Foundational sensations



Spiderwebs drift cross my face

Heard crunch of gravel

All along I heard the rustles

Tell tale signs

Potential trouble

Could be a cougar

Or a bear

One night last year

Was almost trampled

By a deer

So noises in the night

Signal beware


Distant sirens pierce the silence

Emphasizing the point

Announcing some new violence


Overhead the clouds roll by

Obscuring meteoric showers

Backlit by quartermoon rising

Cloudfaced trolls fly overhead

Noble Aslan next

To cloudshow

Then a pig wings its floyd way home


Looking down across the city

Final urban push

Before the sea

A panoply of lights descends

Distant towers lit completely

Dimmed streets outlined in orange fuzz

Illegal fireworks arc briefly there

Distant echos


More police chase across the view

Looks more urgent

Than what I’m doing

Finding falling stars and poetry

But maybe not

Maybe not




David Trudel  ©  2012





Filed under Poetry